The Sibling Wars
by LuckyTurtle
Summary: Jasper and Bella are siblings in 1861. Jasper leaves for war and is changed 2 yrs l8r. Bella is changed 5 yrs afterwards. They both are caught in newborn wars. Each hav their own covens. What happens when theyre reunited? sounds same, but diff! ExB l8r :
1. Chapter 1

DISCLAIMER: I don't own any of the characters, Stephenie Meyer does (as everyone around here knows, I'm sure)

Chapter 1: Houston, Texas May 6, 1861

**Third Person POV**

A girl of about the age of twelve or thirteen was running as fast as she could in her pink and white dress that was full of many laces, bows, and ties that arose in a complicated pattern. The girl's dark red-brown hair bounced as she ran and it looked slightly mussed up, as if she had just gotten out of bed. She ran in her unladylike fashion towards a boy taller than her by a considerable amount who was walking fast in the direction the girl was running, not yet noticing his quickly approaching, unwanted visitor. The boy's hair was blond with brown just as dark as the girl's at the roots and he had some of the same characteristics. Though the girl's face was still quite childish and still had a hint of that young glow of a child, while the boy had very obviously reached puberty, their faces still held some of the same high cheekbones and determined expressions.

"Jasper! Jasper, wait!" the girl half-shrieked to the boy's stiff back.

**Bella's POV**

"Jasper! Jasper, wait!" I shouted frantically to my brother's quickly retreating form.

Jasper looked back at me with a pained expression and he slowed his pace, but he didn't halt completely.

I ran as fast as I could to try to catch up to him, which was hard because of the dreadfully tight dress Mama had forced me into for the ball. It was pink and lacey, the two things I hated the most in a dress and Mama knew it. I was also out of shape because of Jasper's lack of presence around the Whitlock Mansion these days. He was constantly disappearing for days, just to get on Papa's nerves and I hated it because I had to put on a fake act around Mama while I didn't when I was with Jasper. Jasper was the keeper of all my secrets and he had never told anyone, like he had of Papa's secrets, which were of far more importance than mine were and ever could be.

"Where are you going Jasper?" I panted, stumbling slightly as I fell into pace beside him.

"I'm going to war, Bella," he growled in a tone of voice he only gave to Papa. It had always scared me. It meant that he was serious this time, he wasn't joking, or trying to annoy Mama and Papa, or just give off a warning, he was dead serious. It silenced me for a second before I spoke again with a slight tremor of fear in my tone, which I hoped he didn't hear. But, knowing him, he probably did.

"Why, Jazz?" I whined in a voice I hadn't used since I had been a child. Although I still considered myself a child in both heart and looks, to the rest of society, my young age of twelve was considered something higher, something supposedly more elegant. I just considered it dreary and dull. I was thought of as "a young lady". It sounded hideous, to me, and perhaps the exception of Mary Maybell Di, my bestest friend ever, even though Mama didn't approve of her. Mama said she wasn't rich enough.

It was true, Mary didn't come from a wealthy family like us Whitlock's did, but she went to the higher class schools all the same. Mary was an only child, so her parents were able to scrounge just enough money to pay off the schooling bill, but it left them short of food at least once a week. I had taken to sneaking Mary some food when Kayli Burk, our maid, wasn't around. I enjoyed it. I loved the thrill of sneaking around, and the pleasure I felt when I handed the small piece of bread or the occasional cheese slice to Mary or her parents who were constantly telling me to not do it, though they were grateful all the same.

This was how I was able to relate to Jasper, my only brother, my only protector, and my only other friend in the world. I could see how he would want to help out in the army. For the thrill of the ride and for the comfort and pride of serving the Confederates. But, selfish as I was, I couldn't stand the thought of losing him, and some inner sense of forethought within me told me that if I left my brother to his own thoughts and he left for the army, I would never see him again alive. I didn't think I could bear that. I would just about die of sorrow or possibly heart attack from the shock of it. Of course…

I shook myself out of my thoughts. Now was not the time to get lost in my musings.

Jasper shot an amused glance towards me before answering gently, "You know perf'ly well why, Bella."

"I know," I said, tearing up a bit as I let a little of my frustration vent out that way. "But, being the horrible, awful person I am, I can't bear to see you go." I would have continued, but Jasper stopped abruptly and held my face in between his hands as he said,

"You ain't horrible and you sure darn_ ain't_ awful! And don't let those school bully twins get to you. Kai and Shona don't mean nothin'. Don't give a darn to what they say, ya hear me?"

I faintly realized that his Texan accent was coming out stronger then normal, and Papa would have been disappointed because we were supposed to be of higher class, but really, what did Papa expect? Jasper didn't exactly hang out with the "nobles" of the town. Of course, I doubt anyone other than Mama, with her French background, considered them nobles, for I certainly didn't. From what Mama told me of _real_ nobles, these higher class Texans were definitely not nobles.

Nodding my head miserably within Jasper's grip, I felt the first of the tears fall. I brushed them away briskly in a concealed movement, but not before Jasper saw.

Holding me close to him, Jasper rocked me and sang the lullaby Mama used to sing awhile back when I was still six and life was simple. It was French, from Mama's homeland, and I had often sung it to myself to get myself to fall asleep long after she stopped singing it herself. I thought of the whole song in my head, but Jasper only sang the first four lines. Most likely because he had trouble singing the higher pitches of the other verses.

_Dodo, l'enfant do,_

 _L'enfant dormira bien vite_

 _Dodo, l'enfant do_

 _L'enfant dormira bientôt._

_Une poule blanche_

 _Est là dans la grange._

 _Qui va faire un petit coco_

 _Pour l'enfant qui va fair' dodo._

_Dodo, l'enfant do,_

 _L'enfant dormira bien vite_

 _Dodo, l'enfant do _

_L'enfant dormira bientôt._

_Tout le monde est sage _

_Dans le voisinage _

_Il est l'heure d'aller dormir_

 _Le sommeil va bientôt venir._

Slowly, I pulled away from my brother's warm embrace and looked him in the eyes. My tears made his figure slightly blurry, but I blinked them away so that I might see his face clearly for the last time.

His dirty blond hair was curly and disheveled, as always, and it was waving gently in the slight breeze of the newfound dawn light. The light of the sunrise reflected oddly against his slightly tan skin and shown brightly in his odd-colored sea-green eyes that he had inherited from our Papa's grandfather. Everyone else in the family had either dark, muddy brown eyes, which I found quite exquisite, or boring chocolate-brown eyes like me. I now realized what I had failed to notice earlier. He wore his Confederate Army uniform, as an attribute to the army he was soon to be a part of. I had to admit, it looked good on him.

And then I felt a twinge of something. It was brief, and flashed by quickly, but not before I recognized the emotion that had jolted through me. It was jealousy. I laughed a quick, sharp, and humorless laugh as Jasper gave me a wary glance.

"Got lost in your thoughts again?" Jasper guessed, smirking. Dang, he knew me good.

"Yes," I admitted sheepishly.

"Well, then," Jasper smirked again, "do I get to have the pleasure of finding out what gave you such a thought as to laugh? At me—I might add?"

"No," I said quickly. "You wouldn't be interested anyways. It wasn't about you. Not about you at all." But, of course, that infamous blush of mine became graced upon my face as I felt the heat rush to my cheeks and give me away.

"I know you're lying," Jasper said quietly, chuckling. I hit him on the shoulder, soft but firm, just enough so that he would feel a sting, just as he had taught me, but I was grateful when he didn't pursue the subject. After all, how was I to explain to my dear brother? How was I to explain that even though I had been begging him for months not to go to the army, to stay at home, that if I was offered the chance to join the army, I would gladly leave him behind in the dust without looking back for that chance? How would I tell him that I so desperately wished that I were in his place? For I realized now that this was my real reason. This was why I had been feeling that odd twist of jealousy mold into an ugly knot of resentment towards my brother without him—or myself, for that matter—knowing, over the past months—no, year. For all of this had started a year ago, when the idea had first come to Jasper. And here I was, such a long time after, finally realizing my true feelings, and feeling ashamed as I came face to face with those emotions.

I realized that as I had been spacing out, Jasper had been staring at me curiously, and, for a second, I wondered if he knew what I was feeling. It wouldn't surprise me; Jasper had always had a knack for discovering what others were feeling.

"I need to go now, Bella," Jasper said gently. "I'll write every two weeks, okay?"

I nodded solemnly and said, "If possible, please try to visit in two or three years, Jasper. Of course, by then, I'll be like fifteen and knowing Mama, she'll already have suitors courting me in order to marry me off. So you might not _want_ to come back."

Jasper jerked his head up a second and looked at me worriedly. "I hadn't thought about that. You'll be okay, won't you?"

"Of course," I assured him, though I was quite sure I wouldn't be, and I could tell that Jasper detected my negative attitude towards the subject because while simultaneously looking back at the ever-rising sun and me, he was frantically pacing a little.

"What are you doing?" I asked, laughing a little. "You need to go…shoo, shoo!" I flapped my hands as if I was trying to scare the crows and ravens away from the strawberries and other fruits and vegetables in Mama's precious garden.

"Yes, I should go," Jasper sighed. "Take care of yourself, Bells," he said to me, coming towards me. He kissed the top of my head as he hugged me and began to leave.

I shielded my eyes from the light with my hand as I watched him walk down the street against the blare of the sun that was now almost fully above the horizon.

When he was almost disappeared from my sight, I sighed and turned in the opposite direction back towards the Whitlock mansion in a state of slight depression.

"Goodbye, Jasper," I whispered to myself quietly, staring dejectedly at my feet, concentrating on putting one foot in front of the other, just as I would for the next few years until I saw my brother again.

But, as I would find out in what would seem just a short while, though in truth would be quite a while, and as I already knew in my heart, I would not see my dear brother in a few years as he had promised.


	2. Chapter 2

**By the way, for the one reviewer (by the name of life4theking) who said to check my grammar, I updated my first chapter—hopefully I got all of those mistakes that you found, and thanks! I also added a paragraph or two that might or might not be important in this chapter. Seeing as I am writing this before I begin chapter 2, I don't know if those added sentences will be of importance. If something in this chapter doesn't make sense, you'll probably have to go back and check chapter 1, sorry.**

Chapter 2: Houston, Texas 1863

**Bella's POV**

"Yes, Mama," I replied to Mama sullenly as I slouched a little in defeat.

It had been two years since Jasper left, and I was finding myself in an even more depressed state then usual. I was thinking back to all the good times I had had with Jasper. When he secretly taught me to shoot, to climb trees, to horseback ride (though that wasn't a secret because it was Mama's idea—she had always loved to ride as a child), to play baseball, and to fight with my fists (though he told me to never use these skills unless I was attacked).

I sighed, and for the first time in a long time, Mama gave me a sympathetic glance, probably because she was going through the same things, though she would never admit it.

I glared back at her anyways because I hated doing chores, and that was precisely what she was making me do.

I huffed for good measure and stomped out the door to the garden. My first task was to pick the weeds out of Mama's garden, which held a very large assortment of plants. Sighing once again, I set off to work.

It had been quite boring around here without Jasper, for just a short while after he left, I became forbidden to be friends with Mary Maybell. I would still see her at school, that was unavoidable, and we conversed as much as possible, which was why I still considered her my best friend (not bestest, Mama had made me get out of the habit of saying that, though I thought it sounded better). Mary knew my reasons for "not being friends with her anymore" and she didn't resent me because of it, something I was extremely grateful to her for. How she accomplished the task of putting that emotion aside, or whether she ever actually did, I did not know.

So, I had begun to meet up with the other higher class students on account of Mama inviting them over for tea—one of the things on my list of top ten things I hate. It was in second place. Balls where you had to be elegant and graceful and had to dance still held first place.

As I tugged on an especially deeply rooted weed, I heard the galloping of a horse not far off. Looking around for the source, I saw a man of about Jasper's age in a Confederate Army uniform on horseback moving swiftly down the road.

"Jasper?" I whispered disbelievingly. "Jasper, Jasper!" I shouted, waving frantically to the man on horseback, only to have my hopes crushed as I realized it was not Jasper on the horse. That was before the embarrassment set in and I became a shade of bright cherry tomato red. It felt like my cheeks would burst from the heat of my face.

When the man neared our house, he stopped in front of the small pathway that led to our mansion.

"I am deeply sorry, sir," I squeaked. "I thought you were someone else."

The man looked at me sadly and, in my immediate rush of worry, my embarrassment disappeared. "Child, are you Isabella Whitlock?"

I nodded my head meekly.

"I would like to speak with your parents, please," the man sighed deeply.

I studied the man. He had a strong build, one that had very obviously been trained in hard work for many years (that's what you get from being in the army). He had high cheekbones, dark brown eyes as most Texans had nowadays it seemed, and the brown, almost black, hair that hinted he was probably of Hispanic descent, like most of us Texans around here—except Jasper and I, it seemed.

I turned towards the Whitlock mansion slowly, almost hesitantly, afraid of what the soldier had to say. I was scared, an emotion I had not felt in a while, not since Jasper had left.

"Please hurry, child," the soldier behind me called in a pleading tone, causing me to jog quickly up to the front door.

"Mama," I said to my mother, who was in the kitchen, "there is a soldier outside who wishes to speak to you and Papa."

"Papa is not home," Mama scolded gently, though you could see she was secretly relieved he was not, "did you not tell him that?"

I shook my head slowly and told her, "I thought he was Jasper, so I called him Jasper, and I was quite, quite embarrassed."

Mama laughed her carefree laugh, though beneath you could tell she was scared, like me, and smiled in a sort of strangled-type way at me. "Well then, I'll just have to tell him myself."

We both walked back out to the soldier who had now dismounted from his horse and was now shifting from foot to foot in slight discomfort. He hid it well, though both Mama and I were able to see through the façade. I instantly thought of Jasper again and his uncanny way of guessing other's emotions.

Mama walked boldly towards the man, and spoke with a forced carefree voice, though, knowing Mama, I was able to detect the worry behind it. She was just as scared as I was as to what this soldier here could mean.

"Ma'am," the soldier spoke reluctantly, "are we waiting for Mr. Whitlock, or is he not here?"

"I'm afraid my husband is not here, but anything you were going to tell him, you can tell me," Mama said with a sniff, Mama hated it when men only spoke to men because men were supposed to be "more important". This was one of the few views I agreed with Mama on, as did most other women, even the ones Mama and I hated. The quote someone had told me long ago came to my mind. It was somewhere along the lines of "a common enemy allies the oldest of foes." I wasn't quite sure where it was from, but I liked it.

"It does not matter, truly, I am not as—cold—to women and girls as most men are these days. I do truly believe they should have equal rights, and it is because of this belief that I came to be good friends with Jasper Whitlock, your son and brother," the man glanced at me slowly and then turned back to Mama. "My name is Anthony Trout, just in case you were wondering, though it will probably not matter when I finish. I bear sad news." Anthony paused before continuing. "In recent events, while out on patrol with three other soldiers, Jasper Whitlock and the other three soldiers have disappeared. They are…missing in action, or, if you are familiar with the term, M.I.A."

I wasn't quite sure what was going on, and I knew that I was still processing the data, because while Mama had begun to sob uncontrollably almost immediately, I began to feel numb, as if my body wasn't here in this place anymore. I almost felt as if I were floating.

I was jolted quickly back to the present, though, as I noticed Anthony had begun to get back on his horse. And, though I'm not quite sure what made me do it, perhaps I just was too numb to really realize what I was doing, or perhaps it was because Anthony reminded me of Jasper, I'm not quite sure, I ran up to the kind soldier and tugged on his sleeve like a little girl. "Please, sir," I said in a small voice, a voice I had not used in a long, long time, "will you come inside for a cup of tea?" And, just in case I had not gotten the point across, I hate tea parties.

Anthony looked at me with a slightly shocked look on his face, but probably realizing I didn't know why I did it either, Anthony declined and said, "I must get onto my other friend's families. The other three soldiers were my close friends too."

I nodded to him and said, "Good luck."

Anthony nodded and glanced at my sobbing mother before nodding towards her and saying, "Good luck to you too." I knew he meant good luck with calming her down. And, as if my brother had not just gone missing, I almost chuckled. I was quite surprised with myself, because I was sure I would break down crying my eyes out very soon like my mother, but I did not feel it coming on.

Anthony mounted his horse and I said, "Hopefully they turn up, though knowing my brother, he'll probably doing something surprising and something no one expected for his grand appearance. We'll just have to wait and see. Thank you."

Anthony nodded once more towards both my mother and I and rode off in the opposite direction than he had come.

I then realized that the sun was setting. I didn't know that I had spent that long picking weeds out of the garden. Turning to my mother, I said, "Come on, Mama, let's go inside. It's getting cold."

Once inside, I settled Mama in her and Papa's bedroom so that she could go to sleep early. She deserved it. I finished my chores quickly in a sort of stupor and rushed to my bedroom as soon as I was done.

And, it was there, in my room, in my silky white nightgown, that I finally began to sob. They were loud, heart wrenching sobs that surprised me in their force. I hadn't known I could cry like that. But this thought was very faint as I cried. I was mainly focused on Jasper. And it was probably because of this that I dreamt of him. But not in the way I would have thought or planned to.

For I dreamt of a Jasper with looks that many girls would swoon at the sight of, looks that were much handsomer than I remembered. This new and improved Jasper still had his skinny build, but behind it you could tell that he was strong—very strong. This Jasper's eyes were closed, but as if this Jasper had read my mind, Jasper's eyes flew open. And they were a bright color of crimson red. Brighter than my cheeks had ever been at the height of my embarrassment. And I realized, this wasn't Jasper. This was a creature, a monster. A killer. And for reasons of both good and bad, I didn't remember my dream in the morning.

**Hopefully there aren't too many grammar mistakes this time. If there is, just tell me! I don't mind at all. I always make mistakes anyways. **

**Btw, this is my first fanfic, but not my first story. I love to write stories on my computer.**


	3. Story Interruption ugh

Hey, everyone who's reading this fanfic! (Wow, what a long hello :])

Okay—the reason I haven't posted one of these before now was 'cause I was all, "ew! I hate it whenever people put these stupid things in the middle of their stories!"…but I think I need one.

I'm sorry to say—if you haven't already guessed what this is about—that I won't be updating for awhile.

There are two main reasons, and you'll be glad that I'm telling you ;) …not really. Haha.

I'm kinda "outta the mood" of Twilight right now. I'm a very what you might call…well, actually I'm not sure what you'd call me :) . Let's just leave it at I have a short attention span O.O haha. I go through "stages" or "moods" in which I really like certain things in that time period. Say, when I wrote this, I was, like, in LOVE with Twilight, but now I'm out of that "mood", per se, and I like Shugo Chara (manga) a lot right now. Get it? I have a hard time writing about something that I don't like/LOVE in that moment. So, you'll just have to wait for my "Twilight mood" to come back, I suppose. Sorry.

I'm also having trouble with my writing. I know it wasn't all that good to begin with, but a couple things have changed me. I'll have you all know that I am an 8th grader. I'm thirteen—almost fourteen!—years old. Right now I'm at the stage in my life where I go through all these hardships (supposedly), right? Well, I didn't know it, but over the past two years I've been changing. It seems obvious now that I've changed, but it didn't back then. Over the past two years, I started hanging out with different people—making new friends, right? Well, not only did these new "friends" have bad influences on me, they also changed the way I view books. Now, I still loved writing, but I hated books. Doesn't really work out, does it? My "friends" caused me to hate books—or at least look at them like they were what would turn me into a "nerd". So, sorry to say, I won't be writing _anything_ right now. I just don't think I can. I'm trying to restore my love of books, but until that happens, I think I'd just fail at writing :(

And now that you have all had this wonderful insight into the life of me (it's okay if you didn't read the whole thing I was mostly just venting my feelings), I'm (once again) really sorry. Which is kind of weird, because I don't even know if you really LIKE the story. Maybe you just _kinda _liked it and I shouldn't be so sorry 'cause it doesn't really matter to you. Oh well. Haha.

Thanks for all those who reviewed/put this on your favorites list!

Wish me luck on getting back the old me (or at least part of it).


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